


from all other nights

by darthjamtart



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1305247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthjamtart/pseuds/darthjamtart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor crash-lands in the middle of Darcy’s seder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from all other nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flipflop_diva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/gifts).



> Wrong holiday, sorry not sorry. The first Thor movie did have its world premiere right around Passover, though, so I consider this entirely plausible, timeline-wise.

Darcy tracks time by the frequency with which she needs to replenish their pop-tart supply, and the traditional night out for Taco Tuesday. She doesn’t pay much attention to the date, so they’ve been out in the desert for eight Taco Tuesdays and one (never again attempted) Margarita Monday when her iPod starts playing the Prince of Egypt soundtrack and she jerks upright, saying, “Holy shit, it’s April!”

She never does figure out how the Prince of Egypt soundtrack got onto her iPod in the first place. Later, she blames SHIELD for somehow managing to retroactively ruin the integrity of her otherwise exquisitely-curated music collection.

Jane doesn’t care what she eats, and Erik likes matzah the way people who didn’t grow up eating it like matzah, so Darcy keeps her growing collection of seder supplies carefully hidden lest it get consumed by hungry scientists before Passover even starts. On the first night, she makes sure the table is clear of hastily-scribbled equations, post-it notes and coffee-stained notebook paper, before setting it down outside the van and plunking down the largest, cheapest boxed wine she’d been able to find. “Wash your hands before dinner!” she yells over to Jane, who nods distractedly.

Erik and Jane both sit down with blatantly stained fingers, ink and grease and desert schmutz. Darcy pours water over their hands and is briefly grateful that at least she doesn’t have to worry about fancy tablecloths.

It’s a far cry from the seders she grew up with -- plastic cups for the wine, a sad, dust-covered jar of gefilte fish that probably wasn’t very good even before it sidled up to the expiration date. Once they figure out what’s happening, Jane and Erik join in for the ritual aspects with fond acceptance and hearty cheer, respectively.

The wine is terrible but the more they drink, the more palatable the food gets. Darcy’s passing around a bowl of surprisingly-edible charoset (she called her mom for the recipe, which fortunately didn’t require an actual kitchen of any sort) when something bright flashes across the evening sky overhead. Sudden clouds mass and twist into an abrupt and terrifying funnel right beside them, and a thud shakes the table.

“Holy shit,” Jane breathes, staring at the large man who has just literally crashed their seder.

Darcy, who made the strategic choice to clutch the boxed wine to her bosom in case of tornado, grabs an empty cup and fills it. “Elijah!” she declares, and holds out the fresh cup to the stranger. He moans, takes the cup without opening his eyes, and props himself up on one elbow before throwing back the wine.

“Another?” he croaks out, sounding plaintive, and Darcy hastily pours him some more wine. This time he manages to crack his eyes open, peering at them suspiciously.

“Who are you?” he asks, his voice hoarse but firmer than it was before. “Where am I?”

“Darcy, Jane, Erik,” Darcy says, gesturing at herself and the others in turn. “And you’re at my seder. Damn, I can’t believe Elijah’s at my seder!” She grabs for her phone, turning the tiny camera on their guest. “Smile for Facebook, okay?”

“Elijah?” the man asks, but he smiles, then blinks at the flash and frowns into his cup. “And what is this beverage?” he asks.

“Wine,” Darcy says at the same time Erik, who’s apparently too old for boxed wine, says with a faintly despairing air, “Franzia.”

“Who are you?” Jane asks. She’s alternating her attention between Surprisingly Hot Elijah and the bizarrely yet-again cloud-free sky.

“I am Thor, of Asgard,” not-Elijah says. Next to Darcy, Erik makes an interested noise, and Darcy scowls.

She tags the picture “Elijah” on Facebook, anyway. Later, when SHIELD has scrubbed their lives of any trace evidence of aliens, Darcy prints out the picture of “Elijah” that’s still on her Facebook page and hangs it on the fridge for Jane.


End file.
